The Killing Years
by NCCJFAN
Summary: Undercover for three years, Booth returns to the FBI and his life with more questions than answers
1. Prologue

January was cold in DC

**Prologue**

**Welcome Back**

January was cold in DC. Snow blanketed the ground of the White House, leaving it postcard perfect. Throw in the fact that it was a cloudless night and all the stars were out in full force and you had the backdrop of an old Jimmy Stewart movie.

Except it wasn't.

Booth frowned at the scenario in front of him before he took off down the sidewalk, careful not to slip on the ice. It wouldn't do for a top FBI agent to fall on the ice and crack his head open. He already had one fake death in his records, he didn't want a real one added to that anytime soon. And he certainly didn't want his death to be attributed to clumsiness. Nodding at the few other pedestrians that he passed on the sidewalk, he finally arrived at his destination and stood across the street, looking at it for a few minutes.

The J. Edgar Hoover Building. FBI headquarters. Booth's frown grew deeper. It had been three years since he had last been inside. Three years since he had shut his office door and shed his identity as Seeley Booth. And it was only after one night and God knows how many harrowing arguments that had caused him to make the decision to go undercover. But now that case was over and he was back in DC. Back to his old way of life. Back to his old job, if he wanted it.

Problem was, he wasn't sure he wanted anything more than a hot shower and a warm bed right now. It had been a long thirty-six months of grueling, high-pressure work. His skills as both a Ranger and an agent had been tested. And except for the few times he had seen Parker and Rebecca, there had been no down time at all.

But it was over and done with now. Come Monday morning, if he wanted, he could go back to being Special Agent Seeley Booth. However that decision wasn't coming until after he and Cullen had a little talk.

The light flashed. The crosswalk was clear. Booth carefully crossed the icy street and flashed his ID at the night guard. A key turned, and he was let inside.

"Welcome back, Agent Booth. It's nice to see you again.


	2. She's Someone Else's Wife

**Chapter One**

**She's Someone Else's Wife**

_**Three years earlier…**_

"It's probably better this way," she told him, her tone flat, nearly dripping with ice. "If you have reservations now about working with me, then it's probably better that we don't."

"Look, Bones, that's not what I mean…"

Booth watched her, her back to him, straight and rigid, as Bones stood across her office from him, looking out the window. This whole set up was vaguely familiar, although the deja vu came from years ago, when they first started working together, before they each knew how much, or how little, they could trust each other.

"Then what _do_ you mean, because I don't understand." She halfway turned to look at him over her shoulder.

"I mean…oh hell…Bones," Booth sputtered, trying to get the correct words out of his mouth to convey his level of frustration. "What I'm trying to say is none of us could have predicted what Zack was going to do. None of us saw that coming. You can't lay the blame on anyone but him."

"But I should have." Her voice was low, nearly gravelly, as she continued to look at him with steady eyes. "I should have. I, more than anyone else, worked the closest with him. I should have picked up on it. I should have seen what was coming and protected him. I should have known, Booth. I. Should. Have. Known." Her back turned to him again.

Booth sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. They went through the same argument time and time again. Despite the fact that he constantly reassured her that Zack was the only one responsible for his actions, Bones didn't buy a word of it. At first, Booth and Sweets just accepted her reaction as part of the grieving process, but as the weeks and the months passed, Bones seemed unable and unwilling to place the blame for Zack's actions on anyone but herself.

At first the arguments were small, petty, and quickly blew over. But lately…lately they were different. And Booth knew human nature too well not to realize that Bones was shifting the blame a bit. While she might not read people well, he did, Booth couldn't help but think Bones blamed him for not picking up the signs that Zack was Gorgomon's apprentice and alerting her.

For a while, the center held. Their work progressed. They went to London. They solved cases. But after Sweets brought Zack back to the lab to help on a case, Bones had changed. She had been delighted to work with her assistant again, warmly welcoming him back. When the case was over, and Sweets took Zack back, Bones once again began questioning her ability to read people, even wondering out loud if she needed to be in on the questioning phase of Booth's interrogations.

He had pushed and then prodded her, not letting her off the hook. That led to more arguments…more fights. Fights that were more personal attacks than "professional disagreements." Booth knew he had to do something to snap her out of it. So he used the last piece of ammunition he had.

"If you feel this way, I think we should dissolve the partnership."

"What?" She turned to him again.

Booth dropped his eyes for a second before catching her gaze again. "I said, if you feel that way, then we should dissolve the partnership. You've said time and time again you can't trust yourself anymore when it comes to reading people. You've indicated that I should have realized what Zack was capable of and told you. So obviously you can't trust me any longer either. Partnership is based on trust. If we can't trust each other then maybe we should dissolve our partnership before we get another case."

Slowly nodding, she had turned her back to him again. "It's probably better this way…"

* * *

The most of the offices of his fellow FBI agents were dark now. Only a few here and there held agents working late, burning the midnight oil, closing a last minute case. Booth walked down the halls that even after three years, still were as familiar as if he had been there yesterday. Not much changes in government-issued buildings. The people may rotate through, but government offices, government furniture, and government coffee pretty much remained the same. Booth took a right and went all the way to the end of the hallway, inserted a key in his old office door and was mildly surprised when it swung open.

The lock hadn't been changed. As a matter of fact, nothing much had been changed. His name plate was still there, along with a few assorted pictures of Parker and the squints. The one that he had of him and Bones had gone with him when he went undercover. As a matter of fact, it was in his suitcase. Even the chair with the lumbar support was in place…just waiting. Booth flipped on the desk lamp and sat down, riffling through his drawers, finding a few files gone, but that was it.

"I thought I'd find you here." Deputy Director Cullen was leaning against the door jamb.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't hear you."

Cullen smiled and walked the rest of the way into the room, extending his hand. "Good to have you back again, Agent Booth."

"Good to be back, sir." Booth shook the man's hand and invited Cullen to sit down in the chair across from the desk. Instead, the deputy director chose sit on the side of Booth's desk.

And hesitated for just a moment. "So, you've decided to come back to the FBI or are you still not sure about your next career move?" Cullen's eyebrows raised slightly, making his forehead wrinkles ride up to his balding hairline.

"I don't know, sir. I'm still not sure."

"What if I told you that the higher ups had authorized me to name you deputy director?"

It was Booth's eyebrows' turn to make the ride this time. "Deputy Director?"

Cullen cleared his throat and looked away a moment, his eyes seeing things in the past he'd rather forget. Then he sighed deeply, like a man that had carried a burden for a long time. "I'm getting old, Booth--"

"No you're not, sir…"

Cullen held up his hand. "I am. I can feel it. And everyday I feel it more. I'm ready to retire, son. I'm ready to take the missus and go live in Florida like the rest of us old coots. Play some shuffle board and bingo. Forget about the bad guys for a while." He smiled a little sadly at the agent.

"But sir…"

"What I'm saying, Seeley, is that I'm ready to turn in my handcuffs and side arm. But I don't want just anyone taking my position. I want someone with experience and sensitivity, a working knowledge of people and the latest technology." Cullen's eyes bore into Booth's. "And you're that person."

Booth was quiet for a moment. Too quiet for too long, for Cullen's comfort.

"You'd still be out in the field," Cullen added, knowing that this may be the caveat to reel Booth in. "Plus a substantial pay raise and increase in benefits."

Booth remained quiet for a minute longer. "Can I have a day or two to think it over?"

Cullen nodded. "Sure thing. But whatever your decision is, it's good to have you back." He slid off the side of Booth's desk to look out the window. "And I know they'll be glad to have you back, too." Cullen thumbed in the direction of the Jeffersonian.

And Booth hid a wince. He wasn't so sure. No doubt something had gotten out about his and Bone's last argument in the lab…and the one that followed at her apartment. If nothing else, Angela would have sniffed that out in a New York minute.

Cullen didn't appear to notice Booth's silence this time. "A lot has changed over there, you know. Three years is a bit of a time lapse. But that team is still working with us and we're working together well." Cullen rocked back on his heels and paused a moment. "I heard she got married about six months after you left."

Booth's head snapped up. There was no doubt who Cullen was referring to.

"To who?" was his only question.

And it was a question that Cullen didn't answer. He said he wasn't sure because Dr. Brennan had kept her maiden name professionally.

"That sounds just like her, sir," Booth had replied, an edge of bitterness creeping in his voice.

"To tell the truth, I was surprised as hell. I always thought you and her…"

Booth shook his head. "No, sir. We were just partners. That's all."


	3. Jack Be Nimble

**Chapter Two**

**Jack Be Nimble**

_She's someone else's wife._

The thought ran laps around Booth's mind as he finished his meeting with Cullen. Not that it surprised him much. Oh, for sure, the marriage part did. But after three years, Booth knew he would have to be a hopeless romantic to believe that Temperance Brennan would wait patiently for him to return to DC. Any blooming ideas of romance had died on the vine the last few months they were together. All the arguments and bickering that were too personal in nature had eroded any thoughts of intimacy.

Booth knew he may be many things, but he was no longer a hopeless romantic. Bones had moved on. So would he.

Still, this did nothing to explain _why_ he was now standing in front of the Jeffersonian, gazing at the darkened windows of her office. In fact, he couldn't really begin to tell himself _why_ he was here at all. All of the squints had gone home. Even Bones. Which in itself was odd, given her propensity to work late. But here it was, barely nine o'clock and her office lights were out.

Marriage must have changed her.

Booth puffed out a breath, watching it steam in the air. Oh, well. He rolled his shoulders and shrugged. Right now he needed to find a hotel room and a warm meal and settle in for the night. Monday was another day. He'd visit the squints then.

* * *

She still liked the early mornings best of all. They were quiet and peaceful and with the sunlight streaming through the windows of her home, Temperance found those first hours of her day offered her a solace and peace she might not find again in a 24-hour period.

After filling her travel mug with coffee, she set it beside her keys and bag on the coffee table so she wouldn't forget it. Then she pulled out her cell phone and punched one on speed dial. Two rings later, the sleepy voice of her best friend answered.

"'Lo?"

"Angela?" Temperance paused for a moment and checked her watch. It still was earlier than she thought. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"S'okay." The artist cleared her throat. "I needed to get up anyway. Work, you know."

"I know. Me, too. I was just wondering how Soliel was doing?"

Angela giggled softly. "She's doing great. Slept straight through the night. Woke up long enough to give Jack a grin and a coo this morning and went right back to sleep. I'm going to get her up in a few and get her ready to take to daycare."

"Good. Sounds like she's over the worst of her earache."

"I think so." Temperance heard Angela yawn. "So I'll see you at work?"

"Yeah. But not until nine. Only slaves and martyrs go in at 7 a.m."

Temperance chuckled. "Okay. Just be careful, okay?"

"Will do. Bye."

"Bye."

Soliel was now fine, her earache a thing of the past. With that concern taken care of, Temperance flipped her phone shut, grabbed her keys, bag, and coffee and was out the door. Twenty minutes later found her walking through the front door of the Jeffersonian. Cam had called her last night. There was a new case – one that would require the whole team's efforts. Jack waved to her from the platform. Cam was already frowning over the set of remains. Temperance waved back, swiped her card, and got ready to go to work. Her whole world could change, but her work was still her touchstone.

* * *

He had spent the weekend in a no-frills, no-thrills anonymous hotel off the beltway. It wasn't a whole lot to look at, but at least the bed was decently comfortable and there was heat. The continental breakfast left much to be desired, but after three years of looking over his shoulder and hunkering down in God knows what conditions, Booth would take the hotel any day. And it was easy on his wallet. That was another factor he had to consider until Uncle Sam squared up with him.

And now he was back at work. Deputy Director of the FBI. Once again, a liaison with the Jeffersonian. Booth paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes taking in his team of squints on the platform. There was Cam, her brown eyes serious as she examined the remains on the table. Hodgins was beside her, taking samples of his particulates. To the far left, her back partially to him, staring at a computer screen, was Bones. _His _Bones. Or at least she used to be. She was still just as beautiful. Her hair was a little longer. She had more womanly curves and her face looked fuller and her eyes were warmer, but Cullen had been right, she had changed. For the life of him though, Booth couldn't say it wasn't for the better. He held his breath and swiped his card.

And to his amazement, his old card still worked. He had expected buzzers and alarms and the wrath of God – or at least the wrath of Cam – but it beeped and he mounted the steps.

"Ange…I thought you weren't going to be here until nine," Jack said, never looking up from his specimen. Bones and Cam were likewise engrossed in their examination of the victim and paid Booth no attention.

Silence. And then he cleared his throat.

"What the hell -- " the comment was ripped from Cam, as she turned to see who was behind the very masculine sound.

And then Booth found himself in a bear hug from the ME.

* * *

No one had told the squints that he was coming back. Somehow in all the paper work shuffle, Cullen had neglected to notify the Jeffersonian that Booth was returning and would once again be a liaison between the FBI and the Jeffersonian. That left Booth to fill them in and try to give them an account of exactly _where_ he had been and _what_ he had been doing for the last three years.

Which he couldn't. Not really. It was classified and until he got permission, it had to stay classified.

"Oh my God, Booth," Cam said, when she finally let him go. "You're back—when?"

"Friday night late. I stopped by here, but all the lights were off." Booth shifted his eyes towards Bones, who was still at the far left, and edging even further away from him. Whether she was in shock or surprised, Booth couldn't tell, but either way, her eyes were wide.

"Hey man, we have lives now," Jack joked, first shaking Booth's hand and then hugging him. "Without you here to help us catch the bad guys, we actually had some down time. Where the hell have you been?"

"I can't really say…"

For the next few minutes Booth's head buzzed between Camille's hugs and Jack spouting conspiracy theories about where Booth had been and what he had done. Jack figured that since Booth had kept "radio silence" for the past thirty-six months or so, the FBI agent was either finding the real killer of JFK or was hot on the tail of Jimmy Hoffa's killer – that was after he had found the union leader's remains, of course.

_If it had only been that simple_, Booth thought. Then he caught the look on Bone's face. It had gone from shock to something else. If Booth was reading her right, there was now panic in her eyes as she was edging closer to the steps. That's when he caught her eyes. For a moment she looked pinned, trapped in the intensity of his look.

Then she bolted. Straight down the steps and down the hallway.

And Booth did what he always had done at that point. He followed her, nearly catching up with her, until he felt a hand on his shoulder that spun him around.

"Leave her alone." It was Hodgins. Booth swore the man must have bee working out during his absence. Jack could have never been able to stop him before.

"I just want to--"

"You just want to talk to her, right?" Jack now crossed his arms and stood nearly defiantly in front of the FBI agent.

Booth nodded. "I mean, she didn't say a word…"

"And she won't. Not about you being back. But three years is a long time, man. You gotta accept that."

Booth glanced over at the area that held her office. Or at least once did. Now Angela's name was on the door. Jack watched him with narrowed eyes. "No. It's not her office now. It belongs to Ange."

"Why?"

"Ange needed more room than she had, and so did Dr. B. So Cam and the Jeffersonian moved Dr. B into a bigger office and Ange took her old one."

Angela. The missing squint. Booth's head buzzed again, this time spinning his own conspiracies. "Where is Angela?"

"She had a few things to take care of at home this morning. She'll be in about nine."

Booth paused, for the first time noticing the ring on Jack's left hand. "You're married."

Jack nodded. "To Angela."

"When?"

"About a year after you left. We worked things out. Best damn decision I ever made."

And it was another thing Booth had missed out on while he was gone. Jack and Angela were now married and Bones wouldn't talk to him. He looked away.

"Where's Bone's office?" he bit out, now thoroughly aggravated at her reaction, what he had missed, and how Jack was treating him.

"She's not here," Jack answered back with equal force.

Booth smiled at Hodgins, but it didn't reach his eyes. The squint had obviously grown a backbone while the FBI agent was gone. Getting through him wasn't going to be easy, but Booth could do it.

"I know she's not here," Booth gestured towards the dark office that was now Angela's. "Where is she?"

"I told you, she's not _here_, man. Not here as in 'Temperance Brennan has left the building'."


	4. Woman Up

**Chapter Three**

**Woman Up**

"No one told me he was back, Ange."

When Brennan had appeared at Angela's doorstep, Angela immediately knew something was wrong. Her stark-white face and wide eyes let the artist know right away that something – or someone – had rocked the world that Brennan had so carefully put back together for herself.

Those, and the fact that it took a major event to get Brennan out of the lab before five. And the return of Seeley Booth ranked right up there as one of those "major events."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Brennan asked, pacing the room.

"I don't know--" A cry from the other room interrupted Angela's reply.

"I'll get her," Brennan responded. "You go ahead and finish getting ready for work."

"Do you honestly think we're going to get _anything_ done today with Booth showing up unannounced?" the artist asked, sliding into her jeans and sweater. In Angela's mind, the day was a wash. They could take Soliel to daycare, go back to the Jeffersonian and watch Temperance and Booth play hide-and-seek for the rest of the afternoon, because as surely as Booth was going to seek the anthropologist out, Brennan was going to do her damned best to hide from the FBI agent. Unfortunately for Booth, the labs had been remodeled over the past couple of years and Brennan now had the upper hand in hiding places. Angela sighed as she pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail and then stood in front of the mirror to put on her make up. "You know the least Cullen could have done was give you the heads up."

"I know." Brennan reappeared in the doorway, holding Soliel, who was snuggled up to her, contentedly sucking her thumb. "It would have really helped me plan things out, to say the least." She glanced down at the thumb-sucking tot and gently pulled the little girl's hand away from her mouth. "Soliel, you're really getting too old to do that."

Soliel just looked up at Brennan, grinned, and immediately stuck her thumb back in her mouth.

And Angela laughed. "Just leave her alone, Bren. She'll give up the thumb when she's good and ready."

Temperance glanced down at the baby and sighed. "I guess you're right." She shifted Soliel to her hip and sat down in a chair in Angela's dressing room. "Besides, I have too much on my mind to deal with my daughter's thumb-sucking issues at the moment."

Angela looked at her friend's reflection in the mirror and found her own face echoing the worry lines that were now appearing on Brennan's forehead. When Temperance had come to her and Jack nearly three years ago and told them she was pregnant, they both had been shocked. Jack and she were just beginning to pick up the tattered pieces of their relationship and put them back together. Temperance's unexpected pregnancy had given them a common goal to work toward – to provide the mother-to-be a safe place to live and then to work together to make sure her daughter arrived safe and healthy. In the midst of all of that, Angela and Jack had found their way back to each other. Soliel was an added blessing. She wasn't their own child, but she was darn close. Close enough that now even Jack was verbalizing thoughts about having one of their own.

Strangely enough, in all the upheaval of Brennan's unplanned and unexpected pregnancy, neither Jack nor Angela had asked who the father was. They both just assumed it was Booth. Once Soliel was born, it was more than evident they were right. Soliel was the feminine image of her father – brunette curls and brown eyes, complete with charm smile.

So there was no way Temperance would ever be able to deny to Booth that he was Soliel's father. That was, if he ever found out. And despite all the secrecy that surrounded the baby's birth, and the security around the tot now, Angela would bet a pair of Soho boots that the FBI agent would find out some how and someday.

The questions were really just _when_ was Brennan going to tell him and _how_ was he going to react. And Angela wasn't ready to make any wager on either of those issues, no matter what Soho boots or Jimmy Cho shoes may be involved. She sighed again as she turned and faced her friend.

"You're going to have to tell him."

Brennan looked from her daughter to Angela and then back to Soliel. "I know." It was said quietly and without defense. "The question is when."

Angela nodded. "Do you think it's safe now? I mean, he _is_ back…"

Temperance shook her head and then shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I'm not supposed to know anything about his mission, but thanks to Jack and a slightly inebriated Cullen, I do. But even Jack with his inside knowledge, didn't know anything about Booth coming back…"

"Yeah, 'cause he sure as hell would have said something," Angela replied, carefully studying Brennan's face before she continued. "Do you think they would have let Booth come home if the mission wasn't successfully completed?"

"I don't know." Temperance paused as Soliel wiggled out of her lap to tottle around the floor of Angela's bedroom. "There are a lot of things I really don't know right now." Her head was beginning the slow throb of an incoming headache. She closed her eyes and rubbed her hand across her forehead. "To be honest, I don't know what to do, what to think…"

It was at that moment Angela's cell phone decided to ring. So instead of further commiserating with her friend, Angela dug into her pocket and pulled the phone out. The caller ID said 'Jack'. Her shoulders slumped in relief. If it _had_ somehow been Booth, she wouldn't have answered. Which mean he would have called back, and called back, and called back until he wore the artist down and she would pick up. Instead she flipped her phone open. "Hey…how are things?"

A masculine chuckle reached her ears. "Things are better. Tell Dr. B the coast is clear."

More shoulder slumping relief. "He's gone?"

"For the time being."

Angela paused, glancing at Brennan who was unabashedly listening in to the phone conversation. "Define 'time being', please."

"Well…"

"You mean he's going to be back?"

"Probably not today. Cam read him the riot act."

"Cam did what?" Angela's voice rose in disbelief.

"Cam read him the riot act," Jack repeated.

"Why?"

"Well…" Jack paused for a long moment.

"Jack…" Angela's voice held a warning note.

"Booth and I kind of got into it," he finally admitted. "I told him to leave Dr. B alone, three years was a long time…and he went off on me. Fortunately Cam heard every word and told Booth to leave and not come back until he could be civil again." Another chuckle. "I haven't seen Cam riled up like that in a long time. She was actually kind of…hot."

"And may I remind you, you are a married man?"

"And may I remind you you are way hotter than Cam even when you're not riled up?"

"Good save, Jack." Angela tossed another glance over to Brennan, who still looked worried. "So you're saying Booth won't be back today?"

"Don't think so. He's going to have to appease the goddess Camille with some kind of token offering before she allows him back on the platform again. So tell Dr. B that it's safe to come back, but just in case, I'd leave Soliel at the house. I know Clara would be more than happy to watch her."

Angela nodded. "That's a good idea. I'll speak to Clara now. Bren and I will grab a cup of coffee and be there in about a half an hour." After the "I love you's" and "Good-byes," Angela flipped her phone shut before turning back to her friend.

"So the coast is clear for at least the next 24-hours or so. Feel like going back to work?"

Brennan nodded. "Clara's going to watch Soliel today?" Clara was Hodgins' and Angela's housekeeper who had kept an eye on the baby on and off since she was born. The plump, grandmotherly-type, Clara joking told Temperance she was practicing her grandmothering skills on Soliel until one of her own children could give her a grandchild.

"I'm sure she'll be glad to." Angela grabbed her purse and jacket off the bed and headed towards the door. "Okay, you two, let's make this as normal of a day as possible."

"But Ange," Brennan hesitated just a moment, shouldering her own pocketbook and the baby. "What will I do if he asks…" the lump in her throat stopped her.

"Look, Sweetie, if he asks why you left so abruptly today, we'll just say you had a court appointment to testify or something…"

"But what if…" The lump got in the way again as she smoothed down Soliel's hair.

No words more words were necessary. Angela got the full meaning. "We all knew the day was coming when he'd be back, Bren. Cullen warned us he would be back. In my opinion, he's going to only have to take one look at Soliel and figure the whole parentage thing out. But when he asks about the other… stuff, that's when you're just going to have to woman up and tell him the truth."


	5. Nicotine Fits

**Chapter Four**

**Nicotine Fits**

Frowning at the stack of folders on his desk, Booth deliberately turned his chair away from his desk to look outside the window of his office.

_Too many files and not enough leg work_, he thought, looking out the window without really seeing anything. Below his new office on the sixth floor of the Hoover building, pedestrians crossed the very street he had a week ago when he had decided to return to his job as Special Agent Seeley Booth. He hadn't contemplated the fact that Cullen would retire and name him as successor to the Deputy Director post.

But Cullen had and Booth reluctantly accepted the promotion. The raise in salary was part of the reason, to be sure. The added benefits were a bonus. But the main reason he accepted the new title and the new responsibilities?

Stability.

Along with the title of Deputy Director and the responsibilities of the post came an unspoken guarantee that the United States government would have to be in dire straits to pull him out of this position and send his ass undercover and far away again. He was assured he would be here for Parker.

And for her. At least he thought he would be here for her. _The problem is_, Booth thought as he stretched his legs out and let his feet prop on the windowsill, _I don't know where she's at._

He didn't. It had been three days since Cam had banished him from the Jeffersonian. And not once in those three days had any reason come up that would force him to leave the Hoover building, walk down the street, and visit the squints. In the mean time, he hadn't waited on a case. Last night had found himself on her side of town, a block away from her apartment. On a whim and a hope, he had armed himself with Thai food and took the elevator up to where she lived.

Only to find someone else living there who had never heard of Temperance Brennan, much less be able to tell him where she was now at.

In the cold daylight of the next morning, he had castigated himself for being so stupid. She was a married woman now, of course she had moved. And what would her husband say about a FBI agent showing up at midnight with take ou asking to see his wife?

Cullen's words ran through his head again, as Seeley took another sip of cold coffee – _Three years is a long time. Things have changed…._

Evidently more than Booth wanted to admit, as he grimaced at the taste of the strong beverage. Coffee that cold and that strong only made him want one thing – a cigarette. Smoking was a nasty habit he had picked up when he was a Ranger and the habit had come back to haunt him like a bad ex while he was undercover. He smoked his last pack in Afghanistan before boarding his return plane home and then steered clear of purchasing anymore from that point on.

But that virtuous act did nothing to relieve the nicotine cravings his body was now facing. Booth took a long look at the cold coffee in the bottom of the Styrofoam cup before he shot it in the trashcan. He could get up out of that chair, walk down the hall, take the elevator to the lobby, make his way down the street to a newsstand, buy a pack, smoke two, and be back in his office before anyone missed him. He pushed away from the windowsill to his desk, and started to stand.

And knocked over that stack of files. _Damn…_

Shoving the nicotine fit aside, Booth sat back down in his chair and grabbed the first file, scanning the contents and stopping cold at the bottom of the first page. Her signature glared back at him.

_Dr. Temperance Brennan_

"Dr. Temperance. Brennan," he muttered under his breath. "She's still using her maiden name." That part didn't surprise him. Marriage couldn't have changed that part of her that much. No doubt, despite her reaction to him the other day, she still was a very independent woman, not really needing anyone. So the guy she married must be pretty special for her to keep his ring on her finger and his boxers in her dresser drawers, despite her lingering attachment to her maiden name.

The nicotine craving reared its ugly head again as Booth felt the tension build between his shoulder blades. He pushed it down and reached for a pack of gum instead as he continued to read through the file, his eyes scanning for her name time and time again.

_Dr. Temperance Brennan… Dr. Temperance Brennan…Dr. Temperance Brennan._

_Bones._

"Temperance…" Her name was like a whispered prayer on his lips. He almost never called her by her first name. At first it was Dr. Brennan, the squint. Then as it became more apparent she was _his_ squint, she became Bones – an obvious nickname in reference to her occupation.

Or so she and most other people thought. But Booth took one long look into her blue eyes and he became a lost soul. To have called her Tempe or Temperance would have been too intimate – that was what he whispered to her in his dreams, the ones that had them both naked in his bed. Bones had been a much safer choice in nicknames, a constant reminder of what she did and that she was his _partner_, not a potential lover. Throughout the years they worked together, even as they grew emotionally closer, the name 'Bones' had been a constant reminder that they could only get just-so-close.

It worked. At least it did until that last week before he got swept up into a chain of international events that jerked him out of DC and into the Middle East. They had bickered…fought…each fight getting just a little more personal than the last.

Then it happened. She pushed a little too far. He didn't back down. There was shouting. A lot of it. She had been roiling in emotions, more than he had ever seen. And somehow, in the midst of it, his lips were on hers and she was kissing him back. Fiercely.

He had whispered Temperance quite a few times that night. Shouted it once or twice if he remembered correctly. Until sometime in the cold light of morning, she asked him to leave.

"Temperance?" he had said one more time, gently running a finger down her cheek.

Instead of answering him, she had turned her head away. He had grabbed his boxers, shoved his legs in his jeans and left her apartment, slamming the door behind him.

He made a point not to see her that day. Nor the next. The third day brought him into the Jeffersonian with a case. She responded as normal, coming with him into the field, but things were even colder between them. Booth thought he might come back with a terminal case of frostbite, Brennan-style. They spoke little on the way back to the lab. When he let her out in front of the building, promising to be by later to look at the reports, he caught her looking at him with confusion in her eyes.

Confusion was good. At least on some level, they felt the same.

But the next day, the US Government called and his retired-Ranger ass was back on duty and flying across the Atlantic Ocean. He had never got to address that confusion.

And now it was three years later and the confusion in her eyes had bee replaced with something else? What was it? Fear? Booth shook his head. Not her. Apprehension? He nodded. Maybe that was it. Maybe she wondered if he remembered what happened. Would Booth tell her husband? Maybe she wondered if that night meant anything then – did it mean anything now?

Yes…and no.

He remembered. Nearly everyday of his life, he remembered. What did it mean? Ah, there was the rub. Obviously it had meant little to her, she married someone else.

_She's someone else's wife_…

That thought tripped across his mind again, too. Mr. Temperance Brennan had not yet made his appearance, although Jack had been quick to point out the fact that three years had been a long time and things had changed. What was it Hodgins had said? Oh yeah, _Temperance Brennan had left the building_. At the time Booth assumed that Jack had meant that she had gone home.

In reflection, maybe the squint meant that _that_ woman didn't exist anymore. Booth bit back a bitter chuckle. What did Jack know?

_Maybe more than you want to think…_

Booth squelched the thought. Hodgins was now married to Angela. There was nothing between Jack and Bones.

_Are you sure?_

Booth felt a muscle in his jaw flinch, he was gritting his teeth so hard. Of course he was sure there was nothing between the two squints.

_You'd be the last to know_. _And you're too close to these people to be objective._

Booth slammed the file shut. He could be objective. And from now on, he would be. If there was something going on between Hodgins and Bones, he'd find it out.

Right after he got a cigarette.


	6. Nonanswers

_**First, thanks for all the reviews and encouragement. I'm just sorry that "real life" has kind of gotten in the way the past couple of weeks and I haven't been able to update like I want to.**_

_**I would also like to encourage you to check out a story that Rin22 and I are writing together under the pen name of Nina La Vough. It's a good read – I promise.**_

**Chapter Five**

**Non-Answers**

"Want anything else, Dr. Brennan?"

"What?"

The waitress gave her a patient look and then repeated, "Do you want anything else, Dr. Brennan? More coffee? Water?"

Bones shook her head, clearing out the fog and bringing herself back to reality. It was lunch time and she had escaped the lab to find refuge at the Royal Diner and their old booth. She came here often after he left on his mission – daily after she found out she was pregnant and began to crave pie. It was easy to find herself lost in her thoughts and memories here, something that was happening far too often now that Booth was back in DC.

"Dr. Brennan?" the waitress asked again.

"Um, no. I'm fine. Just the check, please?"

The waitress nodded and left to wait on another customer, leaving Temperance alone with her thoughts once again. With her hands wrapped around her coffee cup, she let her mind wander, trying to categorize her thoughts and compartmentalize her emotions.

Cullen had come to her office a week ago. She and the deputy director had grown closer after Booth disappeared. Her reluctance to work with another FBI liaison had forced Cullen to deal with her on a personal level and Temperance was surprised to find that, in many aspects, Cullen was a great deal like Booth. He had talked her into working with the FBI again and promised her "an agent with brains who won't compromise your remains."

So when Cullen showed up last week, Temperance was pretty sure he was going to try to talk her into continuing to work with Booth now that he was back. She had her reply all ready to dive into when Cullen cut her off at the knees.

"He's back, and I know you know he's back. I've just named him deputy director," he said bluntly and to the point.

Her audible gasp was the only sound in the room for quite a few seconds.

Cullen had cleared his throat. "I just wanted you to know. This means that you probably won't have to work with him – directly, at least – unless there's a really high profile case."

Temperance was glad for Booth. Really she was. Booth had worked hard and deserved to be deputy director. Of course, she was sure their partnership had something to do with Cullen's choice of replacement. They had closed more active and cold cases than any other team in the FBI. And Cullen was right. Moving him into the new position would assure that Booth wouldn't have time to pursue anything but the most highly profiled cases because he would simply be too busy with his other responsibilities.

He'd have virtually no time for Bones or the rest of the squints except for that one-in-a-million case.

_But he was a good agent_, she mused, finishing off her coffee and fishing out the correct change for her meal and a tip from her purse. _That will be a loss to the bureau._ Wrapped up in her thoughts and with her eyes busy looking for the money, she never noticed him slide into the seat across from her until she looked up.

"We need to talk."

* * *

_And so much for that little exercise in frustration, _Booth thought, arriving back at his hotel room, slamming the door behind him. If the lamp on the dresser had of been his, he would have cheerfully thrown it at the wall, finding complete and utter satisfaction watching it break into a thousand shards.

But it wasn't and he couldn't, so instead he opted for tossing his coat and briefcase into the chair with more force than needed and flopping on the bed with a sigh of disgust.

_So much for that talk…_

He had tried and in the end she hadn't told him anything. For sure, she had told him _stuff_, but when it was all said and done, Temperance Brennan was still as elusive as ever.

Booth had gone back to the lab to personally retrieve some reports from Cam. At least that was the explanation he gave himself and everyone else. The real reason, was of course, _her_. He hadn't seen her in a week. No one at the bureau was saying a whole lot about her other than she was still just as good in the field as she ever was, but she had become a whole lot more reclusive since he had left. She left work about five everyday. She didn't work weekends often any longer, either.

And that didn't sound like the Bones he remembered. So in all actuality, he had gone to the Jeffersonian for answers as well as the reports. The reports he got.

The answers, he didn't. She wasn't there. So on another whim and a prayer, he had tried the Royal Diner and found her there in their old booth. After thanking a God he wasn't sure existed anymore, Booth had slid in across from her and the not-so-subtle interrogation began.

He toed out of his shoes, still laid back on the bed, his hands behind his head, and went back over that question and answer session in his mind.

_Where have you been?_ I was at work, Booth, but got hungry. I do eat lunch.

_That's not what I mean. You've moved._ That had startled her and her eyes showed it. "You've been by my old apartment?"

A nod. _I came by a few days ago. No one knew where you were. They didn't even know you._ I moved about three months after you left.

_Why?_ Why not? I can do that. I'm entitled to make my own decision about where I live.

Booth could nearly see her hackles rising as she began to slide out of her own seat.

_I missed you_. He saw her nearly deflate then. Shoulders slightly hunched, she looked down at the table's surface and let her fingers dance along the edge. "I missed you, too," she whispered.

_But evidently not enough to wait on me._

Her blue eyes, tinged in apprehension, looked into his brown ones. Brown eyes that were just a little colder than they were three years ago. "Wait on you?"

_Come on, Bones. You remember before I left. That night. We both saw stars and fireworks and defied all the laws of physics and a few of gravity._

"That was a long time ago."

_I thought it meant something._

Pause. A long one. Blue still held brown and Booth could hear his own blood pumping through his veins.

"It did. Then."

_But not now_.

"Three years is a long time," she whispered, before murmuring something about getting back to work, that she had reports to finish and she needed to leave on time. A flash of light reflecting off the plain silver wedding band on her left hand drove home her point. However, her body language…her body language was off. Was she hiding something or just avoiding telling him everything? Could they possibly get back at least the working relationship they once had? If nothing else, he wanted that. Cullen tried to warn him that things were different now. Booth just hadn't realized how much they had changed.

There was a new guy in the lab.

Zach was still in the loony bin.

Jack and Angela were married.

And she wasn't his Bones anymore.

* * *

Her stomach turned flips the rest of the afternoon. Every time her phone rang, she nearly jumped. The sound of the lab door opening made her want to crawl beneath her desk and hide.

Just from one simple conversation with the man. And he'd only been back at the FBI for a little over a week. Brennan groaned and held her head in her hands. If it was this bad now, how much worse would it get as time went on and he found out everything?

_This is going to be the death of me…_

In probably more ways than one, she grimly acknowledged, kicking her shoes off in her bedroom. While the rest of the day had her senses on the highest alert, she had still managed to get through it relatively unscathed, if you call hiding out, locked in your office, normal. She still had been antsy walking out to her car at the end of the day, half expecting him to show up and demand more answers out of her. That was something she still wasn't prepared to give, despite Angela's warning that she needed to "woman up." There was no doubt she should and there was no doubt at sometime probably in the not-to-distant future she would, but today was not the day.

His presence at the diner – a place she had considered her "sanctuary" for the past three years – had thrown her peace of mind out the window and began a gentle tug at a libido she had all but vanished from her life. His questions had disturbed her even more. His memories of that night were obviously still fresh on his mind, even though she thought she had processed and compartmentalized them. She had to everyday. And it worked until she looked in their daughter's eyes and saw Booth's own brown ones looking back at her, and compartmentalization went out the window. Every time Soliel flashed her daddy's dimples, Brennan could do nothing _but_ remember.

So she had tried to duck the questions as much as she could by giving him non-answers that she knew he saw right through.

He let her slide this time, after she gave him the excuse about her need to get back to work. However, Brennan was sure as she was standing that there would come a day when he would pin her down and pick the truth out of her word by painful word. She had given him non-answers, but that was more than Booth needed to work with.

The reckoning could be devastating on both of them, not to mention what it might do to Soliel's future. Brennan let her worried eyes glance over at her daughter who was now happily throwing her mother's shoes across the room. If there were two things that kept her grounded and stable after finding out about Booth's mission into Afghanistan, it was Soliel and her work. And one or both may be ripped from her in the future.

But this was now and she needed to concentrate on getting dinner for both of them and doing laundry. She quickly changed into some sweat pants and a t-shirt and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, reflecting that one of the great things about toddlers was that you didn't have to dress to impress. As long as the mac and cheese hit the high chair tray, they really didn't care.

Her pregnancy had snuck up on her. Immersing herself in the lab after Booth disappeared, Brennan had at first deliberately ignored the way her body was changing. But after a skipped period and the knowledge that she and Booth had neither stopped to use any birth control that night, Brennan ran a pregnancy test. For weeks only she had known the result.

That was until she had to go shopping with Angela for bridesmaids' dresses. Angela was the first person other than herself, to notice the subtle roundness of Brennan's body and nailed it.

"You're pregnant."

Startled, Temperance could only nod.

"And it's Booth's?"

Another nod.

"Oh holy Jesus…" Angela whispered, sitting down in shock. By that time Cullen had briefly informed them of Booth's whereabouts, but not what he was doing. It took Jack and a few of his conspiracy theorist friends with excellent computer skills to fill in the blanks. "If they find out…"

The rest had gone unsaid.

As a result, Brennan had been tempted to give Soliel to Jack and Angela after she was born. Rationally, it had made sense. She had never wanted to be a mother. Angela did. And Jack could provide both a financial and physical safety for her daughter that Brennan never could. That had been the plan.

However, after sixteen hours of labor and the minute she held Soliel in her arms, all the plans changed. The dimples were the first things that played on her emotions. As the days passed and the baby's blue eyes turned to Booth's brown, that cinched the decision. There was no way Brennan could or would part with her daughter. Brennan was as stricken with Soliel as she was Soliel's father.

Angela understood. Jack provided a plan.

A plan that included a "somewhat-legally-sham" marriage and continued housing for Brennan at his estate. After Jack had pieced together where Booth was, what he was doing, and who was involved, he had insisted that Brennan move out of her apartment and move into his estate that had a state-of-the-art security system.

And to this day, Brennan had been thankful for Jack's paranoia.

But the peace of mind that she had worked so hard for had been shattered this afternoon. He was back.

And he was asking questions.


	7. Puzzle Pieces

**Chapter Six**

**Puzzle Pieces**

Booth was asking questions, but the answers were slow in coming. First, because Brennan could play the "I'm-Avoiding-You" game better than anyone else. She could duck and dodge and weave better than the average person, simply because she had been taught by the best – Booth. But there was a second, uglier reason that Booth wasn't getting answers: a serial killer was on the loose, and that had the entire attention of the FBI and the Jeffersonian.

Six female victims had been claimed by the killer. Females that varied in age from eleven years to sixty. Neither had the killer discriminated by looks. The victims were blonde and brunette, blue-eyed and brown. As a matter of fact, the only thing that all the victims had in common was money. They were either wealthy in their own right, or had married into a considerable financial status.

The financially affluent women in DC and the surrounding area had been put on alert. Watch yourself. Go nowhere alone. Beef up the security system in your homes. Make sure you can trust your household staffs. Don't hire anyone new unless they are thoroughly checked out.

Angela Montenegro Hodges wasn't wealthy in her own right, but she certainly had married into wealth. Jack owned the Cavalier Group, which automatically propelled her into the circle of women that the killer was stalking. In her typical free-spirited style, Angela had brushed off the idea that anyone could possibly be after her.

That was until her car was sideswiped while she was taking Soliel to daycare for Brennan. Jacked beefed up security at the house and had a new state-of-art system installed in her car. Everything was fine for two weeks, and then it was discovered her e-mail account at the Jeffersonian had been hacked. Cam tipped off Booth.

And Booth went ballistic. "Why the hell didn't you say anything?" he yelled, storming into the lab and cornering Jack.

"And tell you what? That Angela's car had been sideswiped and she couldn't ID the driver of the other car?" Jack countered. "Traffic accidents happen everyday in DC."

_Deep breaths…deep, deep breaths…_ Booth told himself, willing his temper to subside. "Granted. But under these conditions, I would think you would have wanted to _mention_ to me that your wife nearly got run off the road."

"Dude. She was sideswiped, not forced off the road. And at the time, Angela didn't want to say anything to foster any hysteria. I beefed up the security system at the house and in her car. It was under control."

"But now her e-mail account has been compromised." Booth ran his hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. "I'm not comfortable with the situation."

"Neither are we. That's why Cam called _you,_" Jack retorted. "Now it's getting a little too close for comfort."

Booth blew out a deep breath. "Good. Good. Now here's what I want to do. I want to put your place under FBI surveillance, including placing agents inside your home."

Jack nodded. Angela's safety, as of course the safety of Dr. Brennan and Soliel, was first and foremost in his mind. "Okay," he agreed. "We can do that."

"I'll make sure the best agents are in place there, Hodgins. I'll oversee this end of the operation myself. I don't want a hair of her head harmed."

A long look took place between the Bug Man and the G-Man. Years had passed, but still Booth's role as alpha-male protector hadn't changed an inch. And despite all the money that Hodgins could throw at any security system, it still might not be enough to protect "his" girls.

"I appreciate it," he finally said, holding out his hand to Booth.

"But it might not be enough." Angela's voice, unnaturally quiet, came from the doorway. Her face was pale and tense. "Darvin just called."

"Darvin?" Booth questioned. Who the hell was that and what did he know about this situation. Was he part of Jack's security?

"Darvin is…" Jack begun. How would you describe Darvin? He was more than a butler and more than an assistant. He ran the estate for Jack. A trusted friend, a trusted employee, he was more like family than anything else. "Darvin manages the estate and…other things," he finished.

"And now he says someone has breeched the security and managed to get to our bedroom and go through it, as well as a few other rooms," Angela said, giving Jack a deliberately pointed look.

The meaning wasn't lost. Whoever it was had also gotten to Brennan's and Soliel's rooms. And Brennan wasn't a wealthy woman. That could only mean one thing to Jack:

Booth's mission may not have been left behind in Afghanistan. It may have followed him home without him even knowing it. Jack swallowed hard as Angela shot him another look loaded with meaning. Booth needed to know. Now. And Brennan needed to know that she and Soliel could be in grave danger.

"That's it," Booth's voice boomed, shaking both of them out of their thoughts and ripping them back to realty. Booth's reality, but back to the here and now. "Lockdown."

"Beg your pardon?" Angela asked, alarmed. Lockdown? He couldn't mean…

"Lockdown. You don't leave the lab until I can make sure it's okay for you to go home."

* * *

Lockdown for the Hodgins meant one thing. Lockdown for Brennan meant an entirely different thing, and Angela knew that when Bren found out, there'd be hell to pay. Brennan was at the lab, but Soliel was at the estate. Angela knew there'd be no way that Brennan would stay at that lab while her daughter was somewhere else.

Angela knew there'd be no way in hell Jack would let Brennan traipse across town to retrieve her daughter without Booth. Right now no one could be sure if this was the work of a serial killer or the outreaching results of Booth's Afghanistan mission.

And Booth didn't know that Brennan had a daughter, both of them lived at the estate, and she would move mountains to make sure her daughter was safe. Angela shook her head as she made her way to her friend's office to inform her about the lockdown. This was all too confusing and Booth had no idea he was caught in the middle. Brennan had to woman up. Now.

"Sweetie?" the artist called from the doorway of the anthropologist's office.

Brennan jumped at the sound of a voice. She had been elbow-deep in a file and was completely oblivious to the events swirling around her. "What? Oh, Angela. It's you."

Nodding, Angela slipped inside and partially shut the door. "There's been a development…"

"A development?" Brennan shook her head. "I don't follow…"

"The serial killer… he is…may have been… rattling around at the house."

"Oh my God." Brennan's face paled. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Sure. I'm fine. But Darvin called. Whoever it was got to my and Jack's bedroom…and yours and Soliel's rooms."

Brennan's face went another shade of pale. A hoarse whisper was forced out of her throat. "No…"

"Yeah. I'm afraid so, Sweetie. Booth knows."

Her face went totally white. "Everything?"

Angela shook her head. "_That's_ not my story to tell. But he knows someone broke in our house and he's placed me and Jack under lockdown here until he can make sure everything's safe. And you know what that means…"

Temperance eye's widened as the meaning behind Angela's words sunk in. "I can't! I can't stay here."

"Sweetie, it's for your own safety."

"But Soliel…"

"I know. That's why you need to tell Booth and you need to tell him now."

"Tell me what?" Booth had quietly slipped in the door of Brennan's office while the women were talking, in the hopes of prying a little more information out of her. Instead his eyes bounced between the agitated face of Angela Hodgins and the ghostly white face of Temperance Brennan.

"Ah. Booth…" Angela said, edging towards Brennan's side to support her. Angela could feel the apprehension rolling of her friend in waves.

"Tell me what?" Booth reiterated more strongly now, coming fully into Brennan's office, his hands on his hips.

"Ah…"

"Just fucking tell me. What is it? I…we…you…don't have time to place these guessing games when a killer could be after you."

"Well that's just it…about me… he may not be after me…"

"I live with Hodgins and Angela," Bones blurted out. "My rooms were broken into, too. He could be after me."

Her blue eyes bore into his and Booth read apprehension and fear in them. Things still wasn't adding up, but this was another piece of the puzzle. She had moved from her apartment to the Hodgins' estate. But why? If possible this information raised more questions than it answered. However, those questions would have to wait for another day, when everyone was safe.

"Then that's that. You're under lockdown, too, Bones."

"But I can't be…

"You are." Booth flipped open his phone to relay the information to the FBI. There was already a detail in route to Jack's house, but he would need added security here at the Jeffersonian. "You're not to leave, Bones."

"But I can't…I need..."

"I don't care what you need. We can get it for you, but _you're _not going anywhere."

A heated look passed between them. Angela felt the air crackle. Then it happened.

"I'll be damned…"

And Bones bolted for the door, only to be yanked unceremoniously around and back into the room by Booth. One quick flick of his wrist and he almost threw her on the couch.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear. You. Are. Not. To. Leave. You do, and I'll have you arrested."

"But…"

"No buts. You're in danger. And until I give you the 'all clear' you're not to leave this lab. Capuche?"

"Booth! I have to go." She fought his arm.

"Tell him, Brennan." Angela's clear voice of reason broke in. She was tired of these two fighting like second graders. "For God's sake, just tell him."

"Tell me what?" The irony that this was the first question he asked when he walked in her office wasn't wasted on Booth.

Brennan's mouth snapped shut. Angela sighed in exasperation.

"She has a child, Booth. A daughter. Soliel. Brennan needs to go pick her up at the house before she's put under any kind of lockdown." Angela supplied this information while she gave her friend an 'I'm sorry' look out of the corner of her eye.

Now it was time for Booth's face to turn fifty shades of pale. A daughter. Brennan had a daughter. Well that was another piece of the puzzle. But fitting the pieces together would have to wait. He took a deep breath and hauled Brennan up off the couch.

"Get your coat. I'll go with you to get the baby. We'll set up a temporary nursery here so you, your daughter," Booth paused to glance down at the silver band on the ring finger of her left hand, "and Mr. Dr. Brennan will be safe."


	8. Congratulations You're a Father

.

**Chapter Seven**

**Congratulations. You're a Father.**

"I can take her," Jack called to Booth as the FBI agent was nearly hauling Brennan out by the arm as they passed the platform.

"No can do, Bug Man. I have the gun. I'll escort the lady to your house, pick the baby and Dr. Mr. Brennan up and have them back here in no time." Booth's grip on Bone's arm was firm, and she wouldn't be surprised if there weren't finger-shaped bruises there tomorrow.

"But Jack's perfectly capable…" Brennan began.

"I said 'No'." Booth cut her off mid-argument.

"I resent being hauled around like a piece of luggage."

"Then be a little more cooperative and I won't have to haul." He steered her to the doors of the lab.

"Bren!" Angela's voice called out, "just remember, this is for Soliel." The artist's face had that pointed look again – sharp enough this time to make Brennan pull up short and some of the fight go out of her. Booth felt it when it happened. Her shoulders slightly sagged in defeat and the tension went out of her arm. Giving her friend a tiny nod, whether it was because she had lost the first round to him or she finally agreed with him, Booth wasn't sure. He just felt some of the fire in her tone down to a smolder.

"Just…just do what Booth says, Sweetie. Remember, he's always kept you safe."

Brennan numbly nodded again as Booth propelled her out the door. Angela was right. Booth had always kept her safe. But she had a feeling there was going to be more than hell to pay when he found out the particulars.

* * *

The drive to Hodgins' estate was largely a silent one, with Booth managing to steal furtive glances over at his ex-partner. So she was a wife and mother now. That would explain her new work schedule – off most days at five and working very few weekends.

It would also explain the even more womanly curves and new warmth in her eyes that he had witnessed. Funny, he had always imagined that somewhere along the way, it he might be the one that changed her mind about having children. And while he understood her thoughts about the archaic institution of marriage, Booth had hoped he would at least be able to erase that line he drew so many years ago and spend the rest of his life with her in some shape, form, or fashion.

Then on a hot summer night, in a weak moment, the line wasn't just erased, it was obliterated. Banished. Gone. Blasted out of the universe. That night when Bones had stormed into his house after he was resurrected from the "dead" and found him in the tub with his beer hat, comic book, bandage, and nothing else. He thought she had left, but when he emerged from the bathroom in a towel, he found her still pacing his living room, fuming over the fact that she hadn't been told he had to fake his death to catch a killer.

Bones didn't get mad at him often, but when she did, the anger seemed to linger like a bad case of heartburn.

Only it was more than heartburn that night. They fought. Verbal volleys were flung by both of them until in sheer desperation to shut her up, he pinned her against the wall, his weight keeping her there as his hands pinned her arms just to hold her still. Yes, it had been manhandling her. He'd be the first to admit it. And he knew, somewhere in the deep recesses of his angry mind, he knew that she could kick his ass.

But she didn't. Evidently the extent _his_ anger had caught her off guard. So did that first kiss he planted on her lips.

And so did the second.

Then it was another war of sorts. One of lips and tongues dueling to gain control. Control that quickly slipped away from both of them as they ended up on the floor of his living room.

"You missed the turn." Her voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"What?'

"You missed the turn," she replied, patiently.

"Oh." Booth did a U-turn both with his truck and with his emotions. That was the past. It wouldn't do him a hell of a lot of good to dwell on it while Bones was married with a kid. She was even more out of reach to him now than three years ago. He would have to accept it and move on.

He chanced one more glance at Bones as the turned into Jack's driveway. Her face was a mask of tension and her shoulders mirrored the mask. Without speaking, she opened the door of the SUV, took out a key, and entered the side entrance to Hodgins' house as soon as the vehicle came to a stop. She never looked back to see if Booth followed. He guessed she just assumed he would.

FBI vehicles now ringed the estate and Booth passed a half a dozen agents on the way to Brennan's room. He struggled to keep up with her, as her strides grew longer and faster on the way to get her daughter. Finally, after taking a flight of stairs to the second level, she turned to her left down a hallway and opened a door.

It was a large, sunny room with a couch and desk and fireplace. There were baby toys scattered around and what Booth remembered as her books were on the shelves on one wall. This was evidently her living room. Booth took all of this in while Bones had moved off into another room. Booth trailed behind.

Her bedroom – all in blues and creams. Idly, he wondered if her bedroom at her apartment had been furnished similarly. Then he wondered where she had gotten off to when she emerged from a closet, lugging two suitcases.

"Any idea how long we'll be in lockdown?" she asked, an edge of apprehension still in her voice.

"I'm not sure. Long enough for me to feel sure that you, Angela, Hodgins, your daughter, and husband are safe here." He watched her begin to pull underwear, night clothes and work clothes out of the closet and dresser, folding them and putting them in the larger of the two suitcases. Then she disappeared into the bathroom.

"Have you told your husband yet?" he called after her. Damn, he wished she would at least furnish him a first name of Mr. Dr. Brennan.

"What?"

"Your husband? Have you told him?"

In the bathroom, Brennan closed her eyes and swallowed hard. _Christ…_ "Ah, no. Not yet."

"Don't you think you should?"

Brennan leaned her hot forehead against the cold of the mirror. "Yes. I will." Did her voice sound convincing? Did he hear the wobble in it that she did? Booth was the best. He could sniff out a lie in a heartbeat.

_Soliel…you have to think about Soliel…keeping her safe_ she thought to herself. That thought put steel back into her spine. Straightening up, she gathered her toiletries and strode back into the bedroom. "Okay. Now I just have to get the baby's things together." She grabbed the smaller of the two suitcases and disappeared across the living room into another room. Booth assumed it was the nursery. He could hear her rummaging around, opening and closing drawers and closets. In a few minutes, she emerged with the suitcase and a diaper bag.

"I've packed enough diapers, food, and milk for a few days. At some point in time, while we're at the lab, I'm going to have to send out for more."

Booth nodded. A baby's basic needs weren't lost on him. He remembered how it was when Parker was an infant. "We can do that. Don't worry about it."

"And only organic. Soliel has only had organic food and milk since she was born."

"You didn't breast feed?" Booth asked, and immediately felt his cheeks redden. It was really none of his business. He waited for Bones to put him in his place.

Only she didn't. "I did for the first eight months," she confessed. "After that, my supply couldn't keep up with her appetite. So I switched to organic formula."

"Oh." Booth remembered that Rebecca had felt a lot freer about discussing things like nursing with him once Parker was born. He imagined that all mothers, once having gone through the ordeal of birth and nursing, felt the same way. He watched as she double checked the suitcase and the diaper bag before turning aside to a closet and bringing out a car seat. With her back to him, it was easier to ask the next question.

"So why here?"

"Excuse me?" She half turned to look at him.

Booth stuck both hands in his pockets and tried to look as casual as possible. "So why here?" he repeated. "Why did you, your daughter, and Mr. Dr. Brennan end up living with Hodgins and Angela?"

Brennan turned back around and pretended to fuss with the car seat for a beat. The questions were inevitable. She knew that. Of course his upcoming reaction was also going to be inevitable and probably ugly. She sucked in a deep breath to steady her voice.

"It's a long story." Her answer came out tighter and more compressed than she wanted.

"Care to share?" His voice was too casual now. She knew he was picking her story apart.

"No." She turned to face him, arms crossed, face defying him to push the issue any further.

"Okay." Booth cleared his throat. "So can we get the baby and get the show on the road?"

"The baby has a name, Booth." Bones uncrossed her arms and went back into the last room she been in. "Her name is Soliel."

_Soliel. Pretty name. I think it's French?_ He mused as he waited for Bones to come out with the infant. He heard the slide of a crib and the cries of the baby. Booth watched the doorway carefully, intent on seeing what kind of baby Bones and Mr. Dr. Brennan had made. If Mr. Dr. Brennan was half as smart as Bones, the baby could probably already spout off the period table before it said da-da.

"Okay. I think we're ready," Bones called. Booth watched as Brennan reappeared.

And was dumbfounded. The baby Brennan came out holding wasn't an infant. It was a toddler. A toddler with brown hair, brown eyes, and his dimples. Booth felt all the air leave the room in a rush.

Only to return in a white-hot, angry whirlwind. Soliel was his daughter. And that changed everything. Suddenly he realized Bones' panic. Yes, there was the possibility that Angela was a target of this serial killer.

But there was also the distinct possibility that his daughter was the target of terrorist kidnappers. His daughter. The child no one had bothered to tell him about.

The whirlwind kicked up a few more notches. Booth blinked his eyes in order to see straight again.

Struggling not to catch her arm in another death grip, he slung the smaller suitcase and diaper bag over his shoulder, and grabbed the other suitcase as he place one hand firmly on Bone's back as he ushered the mother and his daughter out of the room.

"We will talk," he promised, his voice angry and clipped. "As soon as we get back to the lab and get our daughter settled, we _will_ talk."

Bones swallowed hard. It wasn't a statement. It was a threat.


End file.
